


How to Say Goodbye

by TheVoidless



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Bullying, Comfort, Explicit Language, Homophobic Language, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-degradation, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 03:01:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12224382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVoidless/pseuds/TheVoidless
Summary: You didn’t expect him to show up, of all things. The last color you thought you’d see was blue, but now you’re sure it’s red.





	1. Blue

“Can you hear it?” He asks in his thick accent, arms wrapping tighter against his knees. His legs are pulled up close to his body. He looks cold and all you want to do is to hug him, to let his red hoodie swallow you whole. But you don’t.

“Hear what?” You implore around the braces on your teeth. You can hear the wind blow furiously outside the window, but you know that’s not what he means.

“Y’know…” He pauses to roll his neck. The wind picks up into a roaring thunder. You hear his neck crack. He opens his mouth again, but closes it. “...Nevermind.”

You don’t say anything back. You both sit back on the cushions in your small bedroom, the window to a view of the snowstorm being your only source of entertainment. Your mother is in the room across from yours. The television emits sharp static noises across thin walls, but all you can do is focus on what’s in front of you. 

You never considered he’d leave so soon, anyways.

Outside, tree branches dangle in the air like they’re waving at you. Like they know how to say goodbye.

You never did, did you?

-

“She’s dead.”

“...Oh.”

You tell him everything, because it’s like you’ve gone numb and the only way to feel was to convince yourself you did. So you tell him every little detail that led up to your mother’s death. But you don’t tell him the shock that came after, because. Well. You never felt the shock you know you should have.

His green hoodie brushes against you as you sit down next to him on the bench. You don’t dare look at his face because you know you’ll see the concern written all over it, and you’re tired of it. You’re tired of seeing people be worried for you and it’s always worse with him.

The sun fades behind mountains in the distance as you speak. You’re on his porch, and the sight of light leaking out from his house’s windows is a reminder of everything you wished you had.

You end your bleak narrative, but you keep your head down, because. What if. What if you start crying once you see his expression of pity, what if you finally see your own worthlessness reflected back at you with those deep, brown eyes, what if you just collapse right then and there in front of him-

“Are you okay?”

You don’t know what to say, so you lie. You tell him you’re fine, but you both know you’re not. So you sit there for a few more moments until you come up with an excuse to leave. You have school tomorrow. Maybe this time he’ll believe it when you say you’ll go home and do homework.

-

The bell rings and you wait for them to show up. They push you to the floor, and your backpack is a weight that drags you backwards. You make contact with the tiled floor and your back feels like it’s on fire.

“Fuckin’ faggot,” one of them says, spitting on your worn hoodie. “Fucking disgusting.”

The other one kicks you as you attempt to push yourself back up, your hand bending too far the wrong way and you hold back a shout. You clench your teeth.

“What? Gonna run to your boyfriend?” The first one spoke again, “Lemme go get him for you and you’ll both be on the ground where you belong.”

Your eyes narrow at the mention of your best friend, but you know they won’t do it. Because they’ve been doing this for years to you and you haven’t told anyone about it. Because they haven’t touched that green hoodie and if they did, that would be the last line they could cross.

So you lay there in the empty space underneath the stairway until they get bored. You lay and you lay in the miserable pain you deserve, and you don’t know why you ever bothered to get up all those other times ago so you stay, and then the lights go off in the school to mark the last people leaving. You’re forced to leave before the custodians lock you in the building.

-

“Hi! I’m Matt!”

You know you shouldn’t, but you hate him and his unreasonable happiness. You barely know the ginger but this is someone you will rival for your best friend’s friendship. So you put up with him and you try to make a joke to make those green hooded shoulders bounce with laughter, because really you don’t know why he’s still your friend and you’re sure he’ll leave you once he sees how much better a person the other kid was.

When they invite you to go hang out with them after school you decline, because green and purple was better than green and blue. Because he likes him better than you, and why would you bother trying to convince everyone otherwise to be proven wrong time and time again.

-

“Hey Tom, Matt and I got a new house. Want to come with?” His voice carries that soft undertone you love. You can’t stay mad at him. So you tell him that yes, of course you’d come, and then you hang up. School was over and it’s time to be an adult.

And God, you’re scared.

You leave your foster parents’ home to salvage what friendship you have left. It soon becomes apparent that they expect you to help pay rent, which doesn’t surprise you. You doubt they’d invite you otherwise.

And although you still had the privilege to cry on green hoodies, something changed. You stopped looking for that shoulder to lean against. You started to wonder where your life went wrong and it all seemed to come down to the last time you saw red. 

-

You’re sobbing in your bathroom as you drag the knife through the surface of your pale skin. The reflections of light on the mirror is stale, but you don’t know any different. You haven’t gone outside into the sun in weeks. Your apartment is the only place you can think to be, being no reason to leave, not when you heard the recognizable knocks of your two friends. Not for them to see you like this. Pathetic.

Blood drips from your arms and thighs, raised scars littering the expanse of your body. You know it’s not right, you know you’re not sane. As you admire the flares of pain that emit from your tired limbs you’re grateful for the peace of mind. You convince yourself it’s better than hearing the screams of your conscious as it knocks against your skull.

-

It’s quiet. There’s no one to bother you here. No secrets, no pity, no blank stare. You’re alone. There are no colored hoodies to interrupt your chaotic mind, and the last one in sight is in your hands, and it’s a hideous blue. But it won’t bother you, not anymore.

You let go of the fabric in your hands, letting the soft breeze in the air carry it down to the raging river below. It’s been a rainy season, but today the skies are clear. The smell of dew assaults your nose, coming off the surrounding flora. It’s a good trail next to your apartment complex that no one visits, especially at this time of night. The bridge is definitely tall enough off the ground, at least thirty feet. If anything, the water will do the job. 

A few more moments later and your eyes follow your torn hoodie impact the water. It’s anti-climatic. It seems to just disappear, swept up in the currents.

Just like you will.

You’ve made up your mind. The shitty life you lead isn’t going to get any better, not with your poisonous presence hurting everyone around you. It’s sickening. They’ll be glad you’re gone. 

The absence of your hoodie raises goosebumps on your scarred arms, the wind picking up a bit. You clutch the hem of your grey undershirt. Lifting one hand after another, your legs soonafter, you stand precariously on the bridge railing. One deep breath. Two. Every inhale rattles your lungs. On the exhales you let go of every bad thing in your life.

On your fifth breath you let your life go.

“Tom!”

The voice echoes across the gap in the river. You freeze in place, arms coming back and legs bending to balance yourself. Your heart beats erratically, a pounding thud that resonates in your ears. The voice was disgustingly familiar, with that stupid accent, almost like…

You didn’t expect him to show up, of all things. The last color you thought you’d see was blue, but now you’re sure it’s red.


	2. Red

You turned around to face Tord, sliding down to the floor of the bridge. There’s something wet on your face, and you think that maybe it’s raining again, but you put your hand to your face and you realize it’s coming from your eyes. You’re crying, in front of him.

He approaches you quickly, stopping a few feet in front of you. You can see his eyes rake over you, studying you like the way he knows you’re looking at him. But you see his expression change as he see your arms, and suddenly the feeling of worthlessness comes rushing back at you.

Your body goes limp against the rails, and you sit against the beams. Tord doesn’t move. You can’t look at him anymore, can’t meet his eyes. No use wondering why he’s back or how he got here. He can’t be here, he can’t.

A harsh blast of air breaks the building tension as you shiver, curling into your own body warmth. You should have jumped when you had the chance. Why did you back down at that stupid fucking voice?

“Tom,” Tord starts in a soft voice. “I… Why... I had no idea, I should have come back sooner, I should have known, shit, shit, shit...”

You don’t know what he’s talking about. You’re silent, just like that day he left you without a word to a life not worth living.

You don’t know when, but your eyes drift close. A tiredness drapes itself over you from hours of crying, and your eyelids feel heavy like weights. Soon you can’t hear him, and you pass out to a white noise.

-  
_  
He’s holding your hand. You try and calm yourself to prevent sweat- there’s no way you can let him slip away now. You’re so close._

_You sit next to each other at the table, and he pulls out lunch for the day. You don’t have anything, and he knows that. He knows you can’t afford school lunches and he knows you don’t have anything to bring. He’s been to your house and seen your mother sit in her room all day. He asked you how she pays the bills but even you didn’t know, and she never told you._

_He was there on the days you actually had food to bring, He saw those kids knock it out of your hands and call you names, and he was there to save you. Tell them off and comfort you. He told you you weren’t worthless, not to him._

_He was there for you when your father died, too. He’s seen your emotionless sorrow, the tears with no meaning, the scars-_

_He knows you more than you know yourself._

_He pulls out a sandwich and takes one half and gives it to you with his free hand, and you accept it with a small smile._

_“So are we, like, gay or something?” He asks you with no hesitation after finishing a bite of his slice._

_Your face turns red, you can feel it, but you say, “My mom says it’s bad to be gay.”_

_“Pssh,” he shakes his head. “Jehovah’s Witnesses.”_

_You’re more comfortable being a jerk than showing your emotions, so you snort back at him, “Commie.”_

_You share a laugh, and continue to eat. But your hands are beginning to sweat and you’re scared. Because what if you let go, just for a second, and he’s gone?_

_Because you can’t lose him, not now. He was your closest… only friend. You’ve shared years of bad jokes and lunches and after-school hangouts together since the beginning of secondary school. There was some unspoken bond between you, a chain that linked you together and wouldn’t break. Not ever._

_You loved him, you wanted your first kiss to be with him, you would give your life for him, you wanted to be more than just-_

-

A jolt wakes you from your tired sleep, and you realize you’re in a car. It’s dark, you observe as you squint your eyes, save for the mini lights on the dashboard and the reflection of the headlights.

You’re warm. Very, very warm. Encased in something incredibly soft and inviting, a comforting, familiar smell wafting off of it. You press it closer to yourself, leaning against the passenger seat and curling up. You’re safe.

“You are awake?” Tord’s voices reaches out to you and fills you with something you didn’t know you desperately craved. You distantly realize that you haven’t actually spoken to anyone in weeks.

“Yeah,” you answer in a groggy voice. “Where are we?”

He doesn’t turn to face you, eyes kept on the road. His tone is casual, “I need to show you something.”

There is no specification, but you know that’s the best you’ll get out of him. Because it’s been years since that day he left but both of you haven’t changed.

You want to ask him so many things. Where did you go, why did you leave me, how are you here, what are you doing here, did you know I was there? Did you know I would’ve jumped if it was anyone but you?

You close your eyes again to wait out the rest of the drive. At some point Tord must’ve turned off the road to more rugged, sloped terrain because it gets too bumpy to rest. 

Moving your body to a proper sitting position, you still don’t look his way. You stare out the passenger window, and you see houses in the distance, small rectangular lights shining out. The car heads up a small hill, and it gets less bumpy to softer dirt. The houses soon get smaller as they fade in the distance, and the ensemble of lights are pretty from this view.

The car comes to a sudden stop, and you finally get the courage to look at Tord. He’s looking at you back. You try to read his face, but there’s nothing but a hint of sadness in his eyes, just like you imagine the way your expression is like.

“This is it,” he says. For the first time since you’ve seen him, you finally catch onto how his accent has changed. It’s still there, of course, but it’s definitely less noticeable. It only brings more questions to your mind.

“Why.”

“Why what?”

But you don’t know what you were about to ask, because there’s so many words running through your head it’s hard to simply pick one and just say it. So you answer with a pained expression, and he understands like you knew he would.

“Here,” is all Tord says as he turns the car off, leaving you in almost complete darkness. Then you hear him open the door and get out and you do the same, unsteadily moving your feet out to a grassy ground. You stand there and look back at him, and he looks at you from the other side.

The small amount of light pollution from the rest of the city illuminates what you can make out of his face, and it’s not much. But you can see his form move, and he’s moving away from you and up the hill. So you take what you have and you follow him.

The night air is cold, and so you wrap your arms around yourself only to look down and notice what you were wearing. It’s a hoodie. But you know it’s not yours because you had drowned it. Your heart seems to stop for a moment, and you slowly take a bundle of it in your palm and you smell it, and now you know why it was so familiar. It’s his. He gave it to you. It’s different somehow, though. You can smell the sharp smoke of cigarettes.

He’s sitting on the top of the hill, and you notice that there’s a sort of cliff on the other end of where he’s facing. You slowly make your way to sit next to him, putting a respectable distance between you. You wish you could go closer. You don’t.

“I missed you,” you say like it’s no big deal. Like you were just telling him about the weather.

“I missed you too,” he says in a quieter voice. He’s afraid. “I… I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” is all you can manage to say, because you’re sure at any moment that you’ll burst into tears and he’ll leave you again.

“I’ve been through so much,” and you can barely make out what he’s saying but you’re sure that’s what you hear. “But I’m sure it’s been a lot rougher for you.”

You shrug, “Yeah.”

His face turns away, and he doesn't continue. So you look back out into the mountains that border your city, and then you notice it. You notice the house you used to live in with Edd and Matt, just sitting there in front of you miles away. 

“I came here all the time. To check up on you. Make sure you were okay.”

You don’t understand what he’s putting down, but. You’re afraid of saying something that will make him stop talking, so you turn to face him but say nothing.

“But I had to go back. And when I came here again, you were gone. So I searched everywhere, and it felt like ages. For a while I thought you moved to a different country or you were dead. But I couldn’t believe that. So I looked some more. And then I found you at that apartment, by yourself and I knew.

“And…” He takes a deep breath and gets this faraway look that you knew too well. “And I would follow you to that trail you’d go to. And I watched you look over that bridge.”

Your blood runs cold. He had… followed you? And for what? In the name of what?

“And today, of all days… Thank fuck I came today. I… I…” He stops and looks down at his hands.

A shiver runs down your spine, and you don’t know why, because it’s cold but not that cold. You see him notice you bring your legs up to hug against you and he gets this look. It’s a dangerous look, and you don’t know if you really know him. You don’t know if this was the same Tord you knew all those years ago.

You didn’t know if you wanted him here anymore.

But then he moves, and it’s like time stops. Because he’s wrapped his arms around you, and you know you’re safe, there and then. You never want him to let go. 

It’s nice and familiar and you’re… 

You’re okay.

“Why,” you say dumbly. “Why didn’t you come back any earlier?”

He sighs, and starts to rub circles into your back. You press your head against his chest, and you notice he’s just wearing a t-shirt because he gave his hoodie to you. You wrap your hands around his exposed arms and you hang there for your life. You’re sure you’d be crying if your eyes weren’t already so dry.

“I wasn’t finished with what I had to do. And I didn’t know if you… If you still remembered me. Wanted me.”

You shake your head into him, pressing a little harder. “I never forgot you. I would have killed to get you back.”

His tone changes, and you know he’s smiling.

“I know.”

And this time, maybe you won’t be left with an empty snowstorm and no last words. Maybe you wouldn’t even have to say goodbye. Because now that he’s back in your arms there’s no way you’re letting go.


End file.
